


(you'll be a) bright light coming out of the dark

by silvergalaxy



Series: sunlight on your noble jaw [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Childhood Sweethearts, Forbidden Love, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 23:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17273213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergalaxy/pseuds/silvergalaxy
Summary: There’s a boy with wild hair who lives the village, and Billy likes to send him grins that make the boy’s cheeks stain pink. He’s there today; Billy can spot him from his perch dozens of feet above the wet grass. The boy is sitting cross-legged in the orchard, playing a game of apple toss with a small girl. His dimpled smile is visible, his melodious laugh carrying on the breeze. He’s beautiful, Billy had acknowledged this fact ages ago, and he wishes he could visit the orchard today.





	(you'll be a) bright light coming out of the dark

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello hey! this is a part of a prince!billy/villager!steve series i'm working on. i posted this part (part one) on tumblr a few weeks ago, and i should have part two up here very shortly!
> 
> like the majority of my fics, the title (of this fic and of this series) comes from a hey rosetta! song, this one being "welcome".

Each morning after he awakes, Billy takes a walk across the castle to the East Tower and steps out onto the balcony above the apple orchard. If he’s lucky, the morning is still young enough that he gets to watch the sun as it begins bleeding her light into the lilac sky. One of Billy’s favourite parts about the orchard is an old oak, gnarled and sturdy, that towers above the tree-line, stretching  _up up up_  so high that the branches are level with where Billy stands on the balcony. Its long limbs cast reaching shadows over the lawn. In the tree, there’s a bluebird with newborn babies that wobble clumsily through the boughs. Billy often admires them from afar as they stumble across the twiggy nest.

There’s one bird in particular he’s been keeping an eye on, the tiniest of the bunch, who sticks close to it’s mother’s side, chirping idly and refusing to fly off with the others. It sometimes reminds Billy of himself, in an almost strange way. Stuck to his parents’ side and forbidden from venturing off on his own. Billy knows his responsibilities lie within the kingdom, but he often wishes he were allowed to go off with the knights on their swashbuckling adventures that bring them far past the vast green hills that shelter the kingdom of Hawkins. He’s mentioned his hopes to his father time and time again, and the king’s answer has  _always_  been the same.

“You may not go until I feel you’re ready, William,” he would say, his tone always disappointed and stern. Billy’s mother was no better; coddling over her only child and insisting that Billy was better off here, that he was safer spending his time charming the villagers and the people of visiting kingdoms. She’s not entirely wrong, but Billy’s heart  _pangs_  with the ache for freedom. As much as Billy enjoys the conversations he has with the sweet citizens and the opportunities to meet with eccentric travellers who arrive in extravagant carriages with interesting names and dress, he wants to get out. Leave his kingdom and make a story of his own, have his own grand adventure. Preferably with particular  _someone_.

Instead, he resigns himself to sitting and watching the villagers make their way around the grassy field, their laughs echoing across the grounds as they chat to one another. Billy smiles down at them, casting little waves to the children who bounce in excitement at the sight of their prince. He finds it confusing yet flattering that they grin simply at the sight of him, and occasionally he can’t help but think that maybe this is where it’s best for him to stay. On days when he has no arrangements or required meetings to attend, he often joins them, picking apples bare footed with grass stains dirtying the stiff white fabric of his pants. But he can’t suppress the pang he gets in his chest at the thought of being able to finally escape, the possibility of everyday being a new experience.

His attitude towards the whole subject is strange, he supposes. One day he’s complaining about just how tired he is here, begging his parents to let him ride off into the sunset on his trusty horse, and the next he’s laughing with the children under the shade of the trees, running across the lawn with fresh picked fruit in hand. His father regularly chastises him for the ripped sleeves and muddy cuffs he returns to the castle with, but Billy can’t bring himself to care, because there’s a boy with wild hair who lives the village, and Billy likes to send him grins that make the boy’s cheeks stain pink. He’s there today; Billy can spot him from his perch dozens of feet above the wet grass. The boy is sitting cross-legged in the orchard, playing a game of apple toss with a small girl. His dimpled smile is visible, his melodious laugh carrying on the breeze. He’s beautiful, Billy had acknowledged this fact ages ago, and he wishes he could visit the orchard today.

The boy’s name is Steve, and he is absolutely magical. His eyes are alight with the spirit of the sun, and his smiles bring joy upon the village children. His hands are all healing, his fingertips a simple fix for muddy cheeks and rumpled hair. His voice is a lullaby, bright and soothing and deep. He’s a beacon of light and a pillar of positivity in the community, and Billy is hopelessly entranced by the charm Steve exudes from his very core.

They know each other, of course they do. Billy is the prince, for goodness sake. He’s speaks to Steve during festivals, gatherings, and solstices. Beyond that, they’d studied together as children. In an effort to nurture Billy’s shyness into what today is a calm and steady confidence, the King and Queen had him be taught alongside the common children while he was still a young boy himself. It was with a tiny and bubbly Steve at his side that Billy learned how to write cursive and identify different types of plants. Even then, people flocked to Steve and his charisma, and Billy was no exception.

There’s more to the story than that, but it’s a  _secret_. In truth, they’re the best of friends, Steve and Billy.

Billy has snuck Steve into the royal quarters more times than he can remember, and Steve returned the favour by teaching Billy about the hidden alcove where the kingdom wall was crumbling so that you could squeeze through and wander into the forest.

The forest is  _their_  place. It’s secluded and serene. The heavy canopy of trees lets in just enough trickles of sunlight through their boughs that one can still traverse the mossy ground without the danger of slipping and tumbling into the creek. It’s an ethereal place, with the tittering of songbirds bouncing against tree trunks and ceaseless twists and turns through shaded pathways. A good place to relax, and an even better place to get up to no good, which is exactly what Billy and Steve like to do best. Their endless shenanigans used to be fun, and harmless. Billy’s father was indifferent to Billy’s activities if they meant that he’d stop trying to leave the kingdom and his responsibilities. So, the two had ridden horseback, planted apple trees, created heroic alter egos and trained in archery together. They considered themselves adventurers, playwrights, virtuosos. Them being bright young men, there wasn’t a trick they hadn’t learned, or a sticky situation they hadn’t found a way out of. Attached at the hip, bonded at the soul. Inseparable, incorrigible, and happy.

 

One day, years ago now, things changed.

 

Billy had wanted to stay out later than usual. The sun setting was normally their cue to put a pause to whatever game or activity they were engaging in, and begin the trek back to the inside of the village boundaries. They were young men, only just sixteen, and Billy’s father was serious about his curfew. It was beginning to get darker earlier as the summer drew to an end, and Billy reasoned with Steve until he agreed that it probably wasn’t too late after all. Billy still remembers the look on Steve’s face when the sunlight was no longer streaming through the arms of the evergreens, when the songbirds returned to their nests, and when the only sound besides their heavy breathing was the now ominous gurgle of the creek.

No longer able to see, they relied solely on their familiarity with the forest. With their clammy hands wound together tightly so as to not be separated, they fumbled their way through the shadowy night, tripping on the uneven terrain and stumbling into bushes laden with the fruits of late summer, the berries smearing sticky purple juice over their clothes. Billy knew his parents would be livid, both with his tardiness and the ruined state of his attire. They kept walking - heading home, or so they thought. It was only when it had been so long that the moon was at its peak in the sky that they finally admitted to themselves that they had gotten turned around, and had become lost as they travelled deeper into the misty woods.

They made the decision to settle down in a tiny meadow surrounded by a protective grove of old pines, where they’d be sheltered until the sun’s light cracked the horizon at dawn.

Shivering, and a little scared, they lay there that night for hours. They whispered soft stories and found comfort in the warmth where their bodies touched. Steve’s eyes were sparkling despite the nervous notes in his gentle words, and Billy had found himself mesmerized by the effortless beauty and unfaltering kindness his companion possessed. He had wanted to lean over and press their lips together so, so, incredibly badly. But, Prince William Hargrove of Hawkins had always been a coward.

Steve Harrington, on the other hand, wouldn’t know cowardice if it took him by the lapels and pulled him in for a kiss. Which, by coincidence, is exactly what  _he_  did to  _Billy_.

It was clumsy, and their lips were chapped and cold. Billy couldn’t even see where Steve’s face was, but he could feel his fingers hovering tentatively over Billy’s clothed shoulder, as though he couldn’t decide where or how to touch him. Steve may not have known cowardice, but he was well acquainted with the cruel lurch of anxiety.

Billy had responded in kind, twining their fingers together, holding them palm to palm as he found the sense in his shocked state to reciprocate the embrace, moving his lips slowly against Steve’s.

Breaking apart, they hovered closely together, breath mingling in the cool air. Billy feels a smile begin to twitch at the corner of his lips as the sudden burst of warm air between them makes Steve’s eyes cross.

“Stop laughing,” Steve had flushed, and Billy can still remember his breathy murmur, and the following smile that was discernible even through the dusk. He thinks about that moment a terrible amount. Replaying the moment over and over in his head while he watches Steve from the safety of his balcony overlooking the orchard.

When the kingdom knights found the pair the following morning, the aurulent sun was rising over their sleeping bodies, and a heavy layer of morning dew adorned the thick grass they were curled together on. There were shouts of relief as they jostled Steve and Billy awake, and shouts of anger when they arrived back to the palace and the King realized their absence was due to an appalling lack of judgement and irresponsible decision making by a prince who was supposed to know better.

As punishment for their reckless adventures, King Hargrove forbid his only son from spending time with the foolish boy from the village. He declared that Steve was a bad influence and inappropriate company for a  _respectable_  prince such as William. The next day, the crumbling wall leading to their sanctuary was fortified with new stonework, and Billy was left utterly heartbroken, and aching with sadness.

But Billy had never accepted defeat before, and he wasn’t about to start. Steve, well, Steve was  _everything_  to Billy, and he couldn’t bear to lose him.

After a decade of friendship, they shared an inseparable bond, and extensive knowledge of hidden passageways, secluded cubby holes, and unmonitored gardens throughout the kingdom.

 

So they continued. 

 

The night of their kiss seemed to be the end of their companionship in the eyes of the royal family and their servants. What would infuriate King Hargrove to no end would be if he were to discover that the sole heir of his throne has been sneaking around behind his back for  _years_  with the very villager he was forbidden from seeing.

Billy smiles to himself as his thoughts come back to the present, propping his chin on his hands as he looks out over the scene before him, the sounds of the village people increasing as the sun rises in the sky.

Just as Billy is about to return to the shade of his chambers, Steve lifts his head up and catches his attention, maintaining eye contact as a radiant smile crosses his face. Looking quickly around to ensure that no meddling guards are watching, Steve turns back to Billy and mimes casting a fishing line, then taps his nose, and winks. Billy nods imperceptibly, and quickly sticks his tongue out at Steve before retreating indoors.

The sun is peaking the crest of the north hill when Billy stealthily slips out of the castle to the hidden olive grove near the lazy river that Steve taught him to fish in the past summer.

It’s late spring now, and the early morning breeze nips at Billy’s skin, casting a pink flush over his cheeks. He’s wearing an old coat of Steve’s that fits him snugly, hoping that the knights don’t recognize their prince sneaking outdoors at such an hour. Billy hates early rises, always having the opportunity to sleep as long as he pleased with no consequence, but he’s always willing to make a sacrifice if it means he gets to spend more time with Steve.

There’s no rule stating that Billy was forbidden to marry a boy – Billy knows because he searched extensively for one – but there was a rule which indeed forbade princes from marrying outside of royalty. And another, less official one that forbade Billy from being in Steve’s presence.

Billy was never one for following the rules anyways.

Steve is already in the tiny meadow when Billy arrives, his back resting against the trunk of a large tree, his head tipped back leisurely as he examines the brightening sky. 

A smile works its way onto Billy’s face, and he begins the short trot over to Steve. Steve spots him then, his eyes warm and happy as he beckons Billy over.

“Hi,” he murmurs sweetly as Billy nears him, grabbing his hand before he has a chance to sit down on the soft grass. Dipping his head, he presses a few kisses to the back of Billy’s hand, his lips brushing over the knuckles. 

Billy laughs and plops himself down, his heart flopping around in his chest from the never ending love Steve gives him. He does ridiculous things sometimes, sneaking into Billy’s bedroom chamber the night of his birthday with droopy daisies and a loaf of blueberry bread he had baked for the occasion. Or, the time he convinced Billy to meet him in the main stable just past midnight last fall for a impromptu horseback ride across the silent countryside. 

He lets his head fall against Steve’s warm chest, and intertwines their fingers together as Steve tells him about his busy week around the kingdom.

“Tommy thinks we’re up to something,” Steve tells him of the castle’s chef, his voice rushed and nervous. Billy snorts.

“Let him, no one would believe him if he told them anyways,” Billy reassures. He thinks he sees a young deer roaming in the distance, and he feels content despite the distant threat of their secret romance being found out. “We’d be fine either way.”

Billy knows that if they were to be caught, he’d have no trouble in deciding what to do. He’d leave the kingdom with Steve of course. They would find a small village a few counties over and live together in a cottage, with a little vegetable patch and their own grove of trees to laze about under. Steve would plant daisies and forget-me-nots in patches by their windows, and they could wade in the lake together without having to worry about the consequences. They would be free, and happy, and together.

“D’you think so?” asks Steve, fingers running gently over the backs of Billy’s hands.

“I know so,” Billy assures him, bringing their joined hands up to his mouth to bestow a series of soft kisses to Steve’s palm.

The future is something that used to be terrifying, and Billy spent many a night lying alone in his cold bed, blanching at the agonizing possibility of being separated from his lover. Now, he can’t find it in himself to care. The discovery of their romance is almost inevitable at this point, and Billy is waiting for it with open arms. Hiding their love, while it sometimes brings excitement and exhilaration, also brings incredible sorrow, which is a feeling Billy never wants Steve to experience. 

“You’re my whole heart,” Steve says, and nuzzles his nose into Billy’s neck, placing a small kiss there.

And Billy feels peace.

**Author's Note:**

> these little lovebirds really do me in, and i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> i'm on tumblr @sociophonetic if anyone wants to come say hi or blab abt harringrove! i also have this posted on tumblr [here](http://www.sociophonetic.tumblr.com/post/181080620698/sunlight-on-your-noble-jaw) if that's your preferred reading/bookmarking platform.


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